Inochi [Life]
by Tori Yuki Ichimura
Summary: "Don't make a martyr out of me... I'm just tired of living." Duo reads an old letter written by one of the pilots at the hour of his death. Can you guess who it is before the end?


**INOCHI**

**(Life)**

_            Life… How do you see life? A winding road stretching before you as far as the eye can see? A staircase, each minute you're breathing another step? Perhaps "life" is just another meaningless word to you. Something you toss around, toy with… Other peoples', not your own of course, but still._

_            To me, life is a stack of papers. Blank, crisp, new. Perhaps that is because my life has always been something I could convey with words or pictures…on paper. Each minute, a sheet slips away. Did it leave as blank as before, a missed opportunity? Did it depart painted and lettered, marked eternally, personalized and mine to forever remember? Or was it torn, burned, or shredded, marred by mistakes? _

_            These are the notions I worry about. It may seem frivolous to dote over such irrelevant things at a time like this, but I have just that. Time. I've been lying in this room thinking to myself for longer than should be considered healthy. I haven't spoken to another soul in weeks, but I'm sure if I was given the opportunity at this very moment, I would ask them how they saw life._

_            If you're reading this now, that is the question I present to you, because if you're reading this now, I am dead. My life will have ended, my stack of papers will have come crashing down and the individual leaves will have slipped away, bursting into flame before another could set their miserable, clouded eyes on them._

_            My work, though, I do worry about. Is it not a frightening thought that your work will outlive you? When I die, some of those papers chance being glimpsed before fading out with the memory of me. Some have already been read, been seen, been critiqued. Will the critics be kinder once they've learned the fate of their author? Their artist? _

_            Will they take my thoughts I've put on paper and force them into the minds of younger generations to be analyzed and misinterpreted? Will they place my soul on display to be scrutinized and evaluated by people who pride themselves on the fact that their poetry doesn't rhyme or that someone once told them they looked a bit like Picasso in a certain light? You know, you can only see the picture clearly when the lines are blurred…_

_            I was offered a few words of wisdom once from a person much more insightful than I. They were not "Follow you heart" but rather "Life out your life believing in the path you've chosen." You could imagine my surprise at hearing such an intuitive suggestion from one who thought it a good idea to test how long a bag of marshmallows would last in a microwave set on high, but it was appreciated nonetheless. _

_            He spoke the truth. One can not be irresolute about the way one chooses to live his or her life. One must be firm. There must always be goals set, or else you are just meandering listlessly about, causing problems for others. Of course, he has never lied._

_            My goal was a family that could live a happy and normal life in a time of peace. More specifically, a family. I wouldn't settle for less. I was not handed peace, so I fought for it. That's how I found my family. Four brothers and a sister in arms. _

_            Unfortunately, I have not been able to follow my friend's advice very well. My objective has changed. I no longer wish for peace for myself, but for the safety of my family. The price? My life._

_            So now you know. You never suspected, did you? You never thought there was much to me, but you couldn't see past the shallow pretense I held to keep you from the horrors that compose my soul. Or perhaps you could, and you didn't like what you saw, choosing not to believe in it. Either way, I love you just the same. It was for your own protection, and it served me well._

_            Today, said the note that was pushed through the food slot along with my meal, I am to die. I go willingly though. Don't make a martyr out of me… It's just that I'm tired of living. I'm tired of the horrors of war. Anyway, death has always fascinated me._

_            It has just as many secrets as life, if not more. Speaking as a scholar, Maxwell intrigues me, hiding behind the guise of the Shinigami as his crucifix swings from his neck. Don't seem so surprised. I've covered life and death, why not the religion that makes the in-between somewhat meaningful?_

_            Without faith, you cannot set your goals. Yet those who claim to have no faith still believe in something, even if it is only themselves. _

_            Do you know who I am yet? Will you remember my name, or will my life's work become property of that horrible 'Anonymous' who claims ownership of everything people don't want to be blamed for. _

_Please don't give me the impression you don't want me. I'm more fragile than I appear. You don't want that to be my last impression of you, do you? The one who broke my heart?_

_                                                                                    -Chang Wu Fei_

Duo set the crumpled, yellowed paper down and picked up his coffee. He never took a sip, but instead stared carefully into the depths of his mug. The braided boy, now grown and with a family of his own, smiled his still-lopsided grin and set the drink back on the table. "I…intrigued him?"

_~*~*~*~_

****

**_"You told me to look at the bright side, but not to go towards the light?"_**

**_~Duet Maxine_**__


End file.
